


Jasper's Death

by westrons



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, He Doesn't Die On Page Though, Jasper Is Still A Confederate At Heart, Striking That Perfect Comedic/Cringe Balance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24423127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westrons/pseuds/westrons
Summary: What it says on the tin. Jasper takes Alice on a trip down memory lane--south of the Mason-Dixon line. His past as a Confederate officer catches up to him.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Jasper's Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohelrond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohelrond/gifts).



> I’ve been conscripted to fight in the Twilight Renaissance Wars and I plan to die as a hero in the vanguard.

Jasper inhaled a lungful of fresh Texas air, even though he didn’t need to breathe because he was a vampire. “I’ve missed this,” he murmured, relishing the crisp evening breeze and the symphony of deafening cicadas. With every syllable, he heard his Southern twang returning.

“It’s nice,” offered Alice. She looked troubled--no, she _felt_ troubled, because Jasper was a special vampire who could sense and even manipulate the emotions of those around him. Still, she hadn’t done anything to stop their trip, so Jasper figured her unrest couldn’t be for any pressing prescient reasons; surely, if the trip was a bad idea, Alice would have said something.

 _Bless her heart--if it was still beating, I mean._ It wasn’t, because Alice was a vampire, too. Their hearts hadn’t beat for decades, so they hardly needed blessing. Jasper couldn’t help but smile to himself. He loved these quaint mortal colloquialisms, even when they didn’t quite translate to an immortal setting. Maybe especially then.

Just as Jasper resolved to force his wife to feel more enthusiastic about their tour of the South, something shifted in the corner of his eye, a shadowy figure half-hidden by the trees. It was humanoid, to be sure, but it moved far faster than any human Jasper had ever seen.

“Well, shucks, Alice, I think we’ve got ourselves a vampire guest.”

Alice didn’t respond. Jasper thought that was strange. She began radiating a distinct sense of dread, mixed with a bleak acceptance. That, too, was odd--and more than a little concerning, if Jasper was being perfectly honest.

“That’s the worst Texan accent I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Jasper turned. The man was similar in build to Jasper, perhaps a bit shorter but stockier, too. Vampirism had cast a pallor on his deep brown skin. He wore simple, unassuming clothes, his black hair cropped short. He looked like any other hiker who might visit this state park, except most hikers avoided hiking at night--and, of course, most hikers were not vampires.

“I mean…” Jasper held up his hands as if in defeat, shrugging. “I don’t know what exactly I’m supposed to say to that. I’m a Texan, born and bred, but I _guess_ I’ve been gone for a while--”

“I am so far from interested in hearing you talk.” The man rolled his red eyes and scoffed. “Why are you all so predictable? Don’t answer that. You know how many of your kind I’ve found here, skulking around, paying homage to your hateful fucking pasts? Y’all make it easy.”

Jasper had to laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Behind him, Alice sighed. When he looked at her, she was shaking her head. She was _annoyed_ now, at _him_ \--Jasper, her loving, hunky husband! He’d have to get to the bottom of that--but this strange vampire seemed more important, just now.

Jasper faced him again. “What do you mean, _your kind_? And what’s this about my past?”

“Don’t give me that shit.” The man pointed an angry finger over Jasper’s shoulder.

Jasper looked. He didn’t know what all the fuss was about; the vampire was gesturing to the Confederate statue in the center of the field, the majestic battle flag of the Confederacy soaring high above. It was beautiful. Stunning, really. A work of art. A striking, brave man sat astride a noble horse, musket in hand, ready to fight for his people, his culture, his way of life. For states’ rights, and absolutely nothing else. _What a pure goal._ Jasper could almost weep, it was so inspiring.

“You have no way of knowing I fought for the Confederacy,” said Jasper, turning back to face the vampire with a smug, proud grin. _Got him,_ he thought triumphantly.

The black vampire blinked at him. “I mean, that was extremely suspicious phrasing, so even if I didn’t _know_ you were a Confederate officer, I would definitely think you were probably one _now_. Like…I didn’t even mention _fighting_ in the Civil War, I could’ve just been accusing you of being a sore loser from, like, fucking Reconstruction or something.”

Now Jasper was the one to roll his eyes. “But surely you can’t know I was an _officer._ Really, you’re assuming quite a lot--”

“That’s _you_ on the fucking horse.”

Jasper looked back at the statue. _Oh._ It was indeed Jasper, he could see it now. The sculptor hadn’t been that talented, but Jasper would recognize those golden curls anywhere. He saw, too, all of his regalia pinned to the uniform, and the rectangular tag over the left breast that bore the telltale name: _J. Hale._ “Oh,” he said aloud, echoing his verbose thoughts.

“Yeah. So, you know, I’m going to kill you now.”

Jasper’s head whipped around, his eyes wide. “Wait, _kill_ me? Why would you want to kill--”

The vampire gestured to himself. “Former slave.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Jasper felt another wave of acceptance waft off of Alice, accompanied this time by something that felt distinctly like preemptive grief. “Oh, fuck, Alice,” groaned Jasper, turning to his wife. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted with a sigh. Alice looked at the statue, and the black vampire, and back at Jasper. “It sucks, but to be fair…” She gave a vague sort of shrug. “I get it.”

Jasper gasped, wounded. “But--but _Alice,_ I didn’t do anything wrong, I was defending my country--”

Alice scowled in disgust. “Defending their right to fucking _own_ people, Jasper.”

“Defending their right to self-determination,” he answered with heat. He couldn’t believe how willfully ignorant Alice was being. _Hasn’t she ever read a history book?_ Jasper knew for a fact that all good Southern children were taught about the War of Northern Aggression. He couldn’t believe his wife was being such a…a…

 _A Yankee._ His blood went cold. Or, if he still had blood running through his veins, it would have gone cold at the thought. He shuddered. How had he ever loved a Yankee?

“It wasn’t about slavery,” he spat at her, “it was about states’ rights--”

Alice laughed. She _laughed_ at him. That hurt. Any trace of grief or dread had vanished from her undead heart. Now, he felt only disdain. “Don’t try to sell me that fucking lie. States’ rights, sure. States’ rights to _enslave people_.”

Jasper bared his teeth at her, at once furious and devastated by her betrayal. Behind him, the black vampire said, “Can we just do this? I’ve heard enough. He’s just as unrepentant as the rest of them.”

Surely, she wouldn’t. Alice was his wife. She _loved_ him. She wouldn’t _kill_ him. But the longer Alice glared at him, the more Jasper felt her disdain grow, and the more he doubted himself. _Okay, she might._ As if on cue, Alice crouched low, her topaz eyes glinting in the moonlight.


End file.
